Romans & histoires Iron Hands Chapter

And when it did, the chains would rise again. And he would have no choice but to feed them. ☠️ End of Chapter 2

Gulping I frowned as I instinctively pulled my hand against my chest, “I’m not going to ask you again,” taking deep breaths I slowly yet hesitantly held out my hand to him, he took it in his and all at once felt a spark run up my hand, clenching his jaw tightly he kept his eyes on mine. He brushed off whatever had just gone through his mind as he held it so my palm was facing him, my hand was shaking yet I never took my eyes off him, nodding once he swiftly pushed the smoldering hot iron against the inside of my palm. Clenching my teeth I gasped out loud, tears started flowing down my cheeks as my bottom lip quivered yet I never looked away. I could hear it burning into me as I smelt my fles

His eyes burned with a fervent, almost religious zeal. He reached for my face, his fingers, cold and long, extending towards me. I twisted, my bound body straining against the invisible bonds, a surge of desperate energy bursting forth. Flames, sharp and silver, erupted from my hands, arcing towards him, but he was terrifyingly fast. With a casual flick of his wrist, he deflected the fire, and then, with blinding speed, his hands shot out, catching my wrists in an iron grip, forcing me still, the last remnants of my struggle dying in a frustrated whimper.

She screamed as she crashed into a table and chairs, shattering them as she fell to the floor. Curled up in agony, her entire body trembled as she rolled on the ground, wailing miserably. Chase stepped forward, walking toward her. "What do you think you're doing?" A towering brute leaped out, blocking his way. He was massive, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles like steel, radiating raw power. He was the head of the guards, known as Iron. Among the formidable warriors in the Larsens' ranks, there were those who mastered the Iron Sand Palm technique. His body had been refined to the peak, and it was a terrifying sight.

Her golden locks cascaded down her chest as she studied me with her viperlike eyes and stepped closer to taunt me in the face. “You are lucky my hands are tied with silver chains, lady.” I seethed at her as I yanked the chain. The hissing sound of my burning skin tugged a corner of Irina’s lips and she tilted her head to the side as she placed her hand on my chest. I was disgusted by the touch and wanted to roar to scare her away but her eyes were so full of death that I knew it wouldn’t work on her. “What are you doing, Irina? Take me to your father and let’s settle this!” I snarled at her, my eyes glinting red in anger and disgust. “I’ll end it here!”

“You opened the door.” ​“I closed it.” ​“You failed.” ​The man raised both hands, palms out. Thick, luminous silver chains erupted from the stone floor with a deafening screech of metal, wrapping tightly around the First Hunger's massive arm. The creature hauled backward with monstrous strength. The silver chains strained, groaned, and snapped like dry twigs, sending the man stumbling forward against the invisible threshold. ​The First Hunger lunged further into the chamber, its maw dripping acidic black ichor.

I had to think fast. My eyes darted around, searching for a solution. My shifter abilities granted me clarity of vision, allowing me to see even the slightest details in the darkness. Shadows danced along the walls as I glided through the hallway, my movements swift and agile. Spotting a random door on my left, I made a split-second decision. With trembling hands, I grasped the chains and crushed them. I hissed when the chains burned my palm. "F*cking silver" I gritted my teeth at the burning sensation spreading to my palm.

~ Iris POV ~ I woke to a splitting headache, groaning as throbbing pain spread through my temples. My whole body was aching and every muscle hurt. My neck and arms seemed heavier than usual and I was also in an unusual position. I tried to move, then I realized my body was stiff and unresponsive. Slowly, I opened my eyes and I was met with a harsh reality. Chains was bound to my neck, wrists, waist, and ankles. And they hurt like hell.

Hunter cursed, slamming his hands against the unyielding door in frustration. His eyes darted to the chains. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the cold steel links wrapped around the handle and stood frozen for a moment, gathering himself. He closed his eyes and focused. When he opened them again, they weren’t the same—his irises glowed a fierce gold, streaked with emerald green. A sudden surge of raw energy surged through him. Hunter gripped the chains with both hands, every muscle in his body straining as he pulled with everything he had. These weren’t ordinary chains—they were built to stop people like him, so breaking them wasn’t going to be easy.

Ace murmured, his voice deep and filled with understated admiration. His finger traced the contours of the chains, lingering on the butterflies as if appreciating every fine detail. His tone remained calm, but there was an unmistakable note of pride in his work. Iris hummed softly, her mind momentarily distracted as her eyes wandered to something she hadn’t paid attention to before— his hands. They were rough, marked by faint calluses and old, faded scars that told silent stories of past battles and hard-earned experiences. “That’s perfect,” Iris mumbled, her voice barely audible as she continued to stare at his hands.